


Resuscitation

by ImaniJoain



Series: Unlikely Singularities [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Resolving Emotional Tension, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-05 16:11:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11581566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaniJoain/pseuds/ImaniJoain
Summary: Bringing the Avengers back together is more than just destroying the Accords. Political hurdles and public relations are nothing compared to the feelings of guilt, betrayal, and shame that plagued both sides after Civil War. Mending bridges, or even seeing across to the other side, will be a struggle for everyone involved. *Takes place 1/3/17 - 1/4/17





	1. Chapter 1

_**January 3, 2017** _

 

Steve was giving him that look. The one that said, _say the word and I will get you out of this._ In 1930 that would have meant Stevie looking at Bucky’s mother with big eyes and the most disgustingly earnest face to ever be made, swearing up and down on a stack of bibles that Bucky hadn’t wanted anything to do with that fight, but he had sure saved Stevie’s life, Mrs. Barnes. In 1941 it would have meant that Buck’s date laughed with a snort and started talking about how many kids she wanted before they even got their first drink and Steve would have faked an asthma attack to give them an excuse to call her a cab and head home. In 1944 Steve would have been planning how to use two sticks of dynamite and an abandoned church to stage an ambush on Nazi tanks just to get his friend out of a rough spot. A hundred years after they had both been born, and that look had become a signal for saving Bucky from not just physical, but emotional damage.

_As if there was anything left undamaged._

Barnes shook his head once, mouth set. He knew Steve would get the message. Same as it had ever been. _I got this. I deserve this. Let me handle this. Get gone, punk._ Although Steve obviously disagreed, he still pushed out of his chair and left the conference room behind the rest of the team. Barnes had to bite back a sigh of relief. There had been too many arguments since he had gotten his mind, what was left of it, back. And all of them centered on Steve’s firm belief that his best friend couldn’t be held accountable for what had happened while he was controlled by HYDRA. Barnes knew better. It had never been his choice, but he had still pulled the trigger. Wielded the knife. Broke necks with his bare hands. Like any other weapon, any other machine of war, even if he wasn’t held accountable, he still couldn’t be expected, _trusted_ to be allowed loose in the world. If he had been corrupted once, it could happen again. The truth of it had made him consider taking his own life – more than once.

In the end, as he got more and more of himself back, he had decided that was the coward’s way out. He had done those things, so he had to pay the price. HYDRA would too, Barnes and Steve and the rest of the Avengers would make certain of that. But, in the end, the people who were left behind when the Winter Soldier had taken a life deserved their pound of flesh. Pierce was dead. The men before him who had ordered the hits were dead. The Winter Soldier was gone but for a whisper at the back of his mind. There was only Barnes left to stand for those crimes.

So he would. It was his penance. Even with his mission to destroy HYDRA, it wouldn’t be enough – there could never be anything that was enough, but it was all Barnes could do. Stand before those that suffered because of the Winter Soldier and take the punishment they deemed appropriate. Sitting alone in a conference room with Tony Stark would be the first, and perhaps the hardest, sacrament he would endure on a path - not to redemption, because that was not possible for him. It was a path to acceptance. Of himself and his own life. Twisted and dark and terrible as it had been.

“I don’t like you.”

It might have been the most honest thing that had ever come out of Stark’s mouth. Barnes nodded, once, in acknowledgment that he had heard.

“I think I even hate you,” Stark continued conversationally. “It’s difficult to say, really. I haven’t hated – viscerally and absolutely hated – many people. So I don’t have a lot for comparison. But you. For you I think I have my emotions pretty well sorted out. I hate you. I wish you had died when you fell off that train. It would have been better for everyone, maybe even Captain Brotherly Love, if you had just stayed dead.”

“Probably,” Barnes admitted. It took decades of experience forcing himself into the mindset of a soldier, a killer, to keep from cringing at the look on Stark’s face. Raw. Grieving. Ripped open and furious. It took everything that he had gotten out of interminable sessions with Sam to keep from offering his own neck for retribution.

“So, he wants you on the team. Wants you to help save the world with him.” Stark’s voice was even and calm, but his eyes burned with something long held down and allowed to smolder. “Says it’s not my call. But asks for my blessing. Blessing-” Stark snorted, “didn’t think you were the marrying kind, Barnes.”

“It’s not your call,” Barnes agreed, and continued with what he had to say before Stark could light the room on fire with the vitriol clearly brewing. “It’s mine. Steve asked. The others agreed, but it’s my call to go back out there.” He could feel the sweat prickling just under the skin at his spine. It was the most he had said to anyone other than Steve or Sam in months. Years, decades, really. But he had to finish. “But I won’t do it if you can’t work with me. You tell me to leave, and I will. I’ll find another way – won’t be as good – but I’ll find some other way to help.”

Stark stared, his attention making Barnes want to squirm. Instead he held himself even more still. It had to be done.

_Submit. Present for inspection. Unacceptable. Lacking. Unsatisfactory. Take it back to the Chair._

Tony was talking and it took Barnes a moment to focus again on his words instead of the memory. It was a day that had no connection to any other, except for the pain, and the obedience, and more pain. He knew things were different, that the most Tony would – could – do to him was insults and harassment. Still, he breathed shallowly until he could un-clench his metal fist.

“-those years. Those deaths. Do you remember them Barnes? Or is your brain too fried for that?”

Barnes knew what Stark was looking for. He knew what the older man wanted, but it was something he would never find. Barnes could only give what he had.

“Every day,” he said quietly. His eyes focused on the wall behind Stark’s shoulder as he remembered. “Most of the missions are clear. I have perfect recall of every kill shot, even if I don’t know why or how or who. He turned his eyes back to Tony’s face, twisted with disgust and anger and fear. “You look like him. Not like he was before, during the war. That is still hazy for me in places. But the night he died, in the car. You look like that now. Except,” Barnes had to swallow hard to keep going, to force the tightness threatening to choke off his words down into the twisting pit of his stomach. “Except he was more gray. His face a little longer. He called out my name, and even as I fired he looked hopeful. Desperately hopeful that I would remember and know him and stop. _She_ had no such hope. Just fear. And pain. And tears in her eyes and streaking through the blood on her face. I had to bend down into the car to finish her, and she smelled like expensive perfume and powder. I remember the recoil of the gun in my hand and the hope in his eyes and the smell on her skin. Every. Day.”

Stark’s face had frozen, his mouth slightly open. He stared. Barnes could feel his gut churning and the whisper in the back of his mind to leave. To run. To escape and push everything else down and away so that he wouldn’t hurt anymore. To survive instead and forget everything that he had remembered. He had to force his tongue and jaw to keep moving.

“Sometimes I think it was part of their goals. To keep those memories in my head. The good things, from before, they are all far away.” A bitter smile quirked his lips. “That seems like something HYDRA would have found...interesting.” He spat the word, too familiar with the consequences of HYDRA’s interests. “After all this time, everything that’s been done – the serum, the doctors, even Wanda in my head – when I try to think of my own mother, her face is blurry. I can’t recall the color of her eyes or the way her arms felt around me. She wore perfume to mass on Sundays, I know that. But no matter how hard I try I can’t remember the smell. Maybe it isn’t HYDRA. Maybe that is my punishment for what I did. I don’t know my own mother’s face – but every morning I wake up remembering how your mother smelled as I killed her.”

Until he saw the tears on Stark’s face, he hadn’t realized he was crying. His own cheeks were wet. Great splotches had curved down his neck and fallen into the collar of his black t-shirt. Tony still hadn’t said anything, so Barnes forced himself to keep going. His voice cracked, losing volume, but he finished what he had to say.

“Say you can’t work with me on the team and I’ll leave. You do not ever have to see me again.”

The tension in the room wasn’t quiet. It pounded in Barnes’ ears. The rasp of Stark’s breath. The faint drip of water onto the floor. A minute creak of a chair as the other man shifted. Central heating forced air through the ducts and it seemed like a windstorm racing through the ceiling overhead.

“You think I’m going to let you out of my sight, Barnes?” Stark began nearly whispering, but quickly rose into a snarling sort of condescension. “I’m going to be watching you for the rest of your life, and if you so much as shrug like the Winter Soldier, I will end you. If they’re willing to allow it, you go ahead and work with the team, but remember. I’ll _never_ forget what you’ve done. I will always know _what you are_.”

Barnes nodded, sharply, just once, and stood. It was more than he deserved. Less than Steve, _the_ _optimistic_ _fool_ , hoped for, but it was far, far more than Barnes had ever thought he would have.

“Don’t think you can go room with Mr. Soulful Eyes, either. You’ll stay in the tower, where Friday can monitor you.”

Barnes nodded again, but kept his back to Stark as he left. He couldn’t look at the man any longer. He had used all his courage for one day.


	2. Parlay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As Shadows_of_Shemai noted, Chapter 1 had all the ouches. Chapter 2 is slightly less heart-wrenching - but we have to get through this folks if the Avengers are going to be ready to fight together again. I vote Sam gets a bevy of therapists to assist him, because these people have some serious issues. As always, if you have a scene you'd like to see, let me know. Filiafamilias, I'll get to Tony and Maria soon, don't worry. And Katiekrm, more Steve/Darcy is in the works now.

_**January 3, 2017** _

 

“He must do this himself, Steve.” Wanda took a spot on the sofa closest to Steve’s chair, his hands carefully flat on his knees to keep from clenching them in his worry for James Barnes. She could sense his mind, but did not mentally reach out for him. That had been a crutch for her, in the beginning. After the prison. And Steve had allowed it, despite Sam’s concern that it wasn’t healthy for Wanda. It had been though – and it was something that Sam would never be able to understand because he did not have her gift. Her curse. Restraining her power for too long left her twitchy and anxious. The collar Ross had put around her neck kept her locked down so tightly she ached. By the time Steve and Barnes had come for them, the ache had become an intense pain that she thought would never ease. Reaching out for Steve’s mind then had been the involuntary action of a wounded animal.

It had been the solid presence of his mind that allowed her to center herself. Firm. Straight. Ordered and resolute. There was regret there too. Pain and guilt – so, so much guilt. Responsibility like a crushing weight that she had to avoid examining or risk suffocation. But his conviction and unwavering loyalty to his friends, his belief in them, was a lifeline for her. It had been a solid week after they had arrived in Wakanda before she stepped out of his mind at all. Months before he had been able to leave her vicinity without her having a mild panic attack. Even now sitting in the inviting lounge area after the government had pardoned them all – with apologies – she still preferred to be where she could at least passively feel his solid presence.

Steve believed in Tony. Believed that the Avengers were an idea worth saving. Worth risking their freedom for. After all that she ahd seen destroyed, all that had been taken from her – the things she had done to others, Wanda had difficulty believing in much of anything, but she trusted Steve. She would do anything he asked of her, she knew that – healthy behavior or not. He deserved any comfort she could give, after all he had done for her.

_His burden would be eased,_ she thought, not for the first time since LA, _if he could be selfish and step out of his own head for a moment._ _I yoho nohy z yoho ust._ _Surely he must tire of tasting his own socks._ She had to hold back a snort.

“Bucky needs to face Tony, and he needs you to trust him to do it himself,” she continued.

“You’ve been talking to Sam,” he answered with a faint smile. “Maybe you’ll be going to school for psychology too.”

That was not a new idea. Steve had been casually suggesting that Wanda should go to college. He dropped hints that she was too young to not think about other options for her future. It always made her both immeasurably pleased that he thought her capable of so much, and irritated that he seemed to believe his own future was already decided. The man had only been alive, actually alive not frozen in ice, for around thirty years give or take a few months. He was not the old man his friends teased him that he was. He was, however, deflecting.

She didn’t let him. “It will be fine, _maty vedmedya_. The respect you have for each other, that was not given easily, and it is not so easily lost, I think.”

Steve finally shook off the concern that held his attention and gave her an honest smile. “Pretty good advice. You’d have to be a hell of a mook not to take it.”

“Yes,” she nodded, smiling as well. There was nothing quite like someone caving to her superior knowledge.

Steve pushed on his knees to stand, but paused with his face close to her ear. “Let’s both try to be smart, eh?” He moved away, strolling across the room to stand with Sam and Rhodey. They spoke softly, and were far enough away that she couldn’t make out the words. It took Wanda a moment to puzzle through Steve’s meaning. She could only blame her surprise on the distraction of the Colonel’s legs supported by robotic braces, a harsh reminder of how they came to be where they were.

“Wanda.”

_Vision._ She breathed slowly before turning, doing her best to keep her face blank as Natasha had been teaching her. It was difficult. She had attacked him, used her power to control his body and his connection to the stone and send him crashing through the floor. She had attacked her friend. Anger and frustration had been riding her hard then. Time locked into her own thoughts while imprisoned on the Raft and then isolated in Wakanda had given her perspective. Vision had only ever wanted to protect her, to make certain that she would be able to live a normal life if she wanted, among normal people, and not have them stare or whisper or fear. It was a life he would probably never be able to have, and reflection had made her consider the possibility that he wanted it. Her friend, who tried to help her, to save her, who wanted the best he could imagine for her – and she had invaded his mind and cast him down. It had been childish. Childish and utterly wrong of her.

He was standing within arms reach of her chair, and her eyes hit him at the waist. He wore dark slacks and a black belt. A sweater, a real sweater and not the clothes he could materialize for himself, in a wine color that nearly matched his skin looked soft to the touch. She wondered what it was made from, if Tony had purchased it, if Vision had picked it out himself and a million other stupid and unnecessary things to give herself a few cowardly moments to gather her thoughts. Steve thought Vision would forgive her. She just had to ask. That was the hard part, making herself believe she had the right to ask.

“I must beg your pardon, if you would grant me the favor of listening.”

Her eyes shot up to his at that. They were as blue as they had ever been; the overlapping planes of skin and materials of his forehead were drawn together in worry. _I need to pardon him?_ Wanda was reeling, and she stretched out her power, but instead of hitting Steve’s resolute determination, she hit Vision. Clear. Calm. Logical. Collected. Overwhelmingly tense with concern and guilt.

“What?” It was all she could manage as she sorted through the surface emotions Vision was projecting. His mind was unlike any other she had ever known, more solid even than Steve’s and operating at a pace no human could match. It was infinitely complex and fascinating but all she could focus on was how absolutely stupid he sounded.

“I understand it does not excuse my actions, but I did believe at the time I was acting as a friend should. It was my inexcusable mistake, Wanda, that I treated you as if you were not capable of forming your own opinions and making decisions. I deeply regret-”

Wanda ‘s mouth fell open. Without her consent a string of curses, some in English and some in her native language, fell from her mouth. As her brain started to catch up, she gained momentum, throwing herself out of her seat until she stood inches away from him, one finger pointed at his sternum. “Bullshit! You do not get to do this to me! I am a person, Vision, and this is not how it gets to go. I will say what needs to be said – you cannot take my apology away like some sort of- of – _krasyvyy stoyik muchenyk_! It is you who has to forgive me!”

“I-” His eyes were wide, but whatever he wanted to say, Wanda wasn’t going to hear it.

“No,” she punctuated the word with a swirl of red around her finger, jabbing into his chest. It was not enough to hurt him, but even in his most solid state he would have felt it. “I get to go first. I have been working up to this for months, you don’t get to steal the- the-thunder from me.” Her breath was coming hard through her nose. She could feel the heat in her cheeks and the cloud of energy that had formed around the two of them. There was nothing left but to say it.

“I am sorry, Vision.” There was a long pause. An unnatural stillness made by the taut emotion between them and the barrier of her power. His worry eased, his lips lifted at the corners.

“You have done nothing that needs to be forgiven, Wanda.” His palm fell lightly on her shoulder, and the stress that had been coiling in her for months, since she realized she would have to face him, suddenly relaxed.

“ _Dyakuvaty Bohu_ ,” she murmured. “I missed you.” Her legs were having trouble holding her up. She flattened her hand against the soft knit of his sweater for balance. Red mist fell from the air, and she was conscious of Steve and the others tensed and staring at them from across the room.

“And I you,” he said, softly. “It has been quite exhausting to be at odds with a friend. I do believe I will avoid such a situation in the future.”

Wanda gave in to the impulse and threw her arms around his waist. She ignored the relief and almost smug satisfaction that Steve was exuding and instead breathed in the mild detergent on Vision’s sweater and relaxed into the sensation of his mind next to hers. She had almost forgotten how right it felt, how easy and comforting it was to mentally and physically lean up against him. “Me too.”

 

 

 

_*I yoho nohy z yoho ust.: And get his feet out of his mouth._

_*_ _maty vedmedya: mother bear._

_*_ _krasyvyy stoyik muchenyk:_ _beautiful, stoic martyr._

_*_ _Dyakuvaty Bohu:_ _Thank God._


	3. Amends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks again for all your comments! I have to keep restraining myself from writing from Tony's point of view, because this story isn't really about him, but he keeps forcing his way to the forefront. I hope you enjoy this, and please let me know if there are additional scenes in the Unlikely timeline that you would want to read.

_**January 4, 2017** _

 

“If I didn’t know how totally into me you are, I could start to get jealous.”

Steve snapped to attention and whipped his head around. Leaning in the open elevator was Darcy Lewis. The pretty brunette with the wide smile, smart mouth, and apparent super-power to make grown men, and Tony Stark, listen to reason. He wasn’t entirely certain how long he stared at her, wondering who had told her about his unspoken attraction. Sam was in the running. Lang would have been if they had spent more than twenty minutes together that wasn’t a rhapsody on the crime that was international postage rates. _Bucky, of course it was Bucky._ He should have anticipated how quickly those two became friends. Even with his new reticence and concern for the safety of civilians, Buck had gravitated to Darcy like a mutt to a hot dog cart. And if there was one thing that had held over from pre-HYDRA Bucky, it was his complete inability to leave Steve’s love life, or lack thereof, alone.

_Timing was never your strong suit, Rogers,_ he told himself. Mentally bracing to apologize to a woman who had worked tirelessly to fix his mistakes, he almost missed her gesture.

“I mean, sure, Tony’s got kind of a silver fox thing going.” Fingers widespread, she made a vague circular motion at the glass wall that separated the corridor from Tony’s workshop. “There are a truly disturbing number of sites dedicated to those who would love to really delve into his neuroses, if you know what I mean. But you are giving off more of a guilty, lonely stalker vibe than a closet-repressed lover kind of vibe. So while my ego remains intact, you might still want to cut short your broody shadow watching.”

“I wasn’t...” Steve stopped, not sure what he should say. He could start with his intended apology for his unrequited interest in her, but she had buzzed over that so quickly he hadn’t really had time to come up with a good way to say, _Sorry my friends think we should date and also I sometimes dream about how you could thank me for carrying you out of a burning building._ Steve was an artist. He had a great imagination. And the whole thing about Tony was uncomfortable. He was aware she knew what he was doing lurking in the hallway, and that she was only trying to make light of the situation, but it wasn’t helping. As much as he would never admit he thought about her naked, he worked doubly hard not to let anyone know how irritating he found her ability to deflect. Speaking with the woman was like running through Coney Island with his eyes closed: full of loud sounds, laughter, and the very real chance for mugging, injury, and/or vomit. His or someone else’s.

“Yeah,” she answered as if he hadn’t let silence blossom awkwardly between them. “This won’t get any easier, you know. In fact, I’d wager the longer you string it out the worse it will be.” The elevator tried to close on her, but she ignored the soft tone and the insistent push against her shoulder.

“I am aware,” he answered. He had been going for stern and off-putting, but it sounded a little too sad to hit the mark. Steve hated that, hated people feeling sorry for him. He had signed up for this, even if it wasn’t turning out exactly like what he thought it would. He had volunteered, and that meant he didn’t get to wallow. He couldn’t let anyone else think he was suffering under a responsibility he had asked for.

“No shit, dummy,” she muttered, eyes downcast as if she was talking to herself. Abruptly, she straightened and stepped out into the hall, stopping within arm’s reach of him. “Okay, so I am new to this mediation thing, and it could be that the whole sit down with the President-Elect and the Speaker was a fluke, and I suck at this and should have become a makeup artist like my step-mom said, but let’s really give it the old college try before we toss dirt on the fresh grave of my career choices, okay?”

She was waiting expectantly, so Steve nodded, not sure if he had insulted her, she had insulted him, or if she was insulting herself.

“You need Tony. Tony needs you. The Avengers don’t work without both of you, agree or disagree?”

“Yes. Agree.” Steve frowned. He knew that. They had been over it a thousand times. It was why he and the others were in New York, in Tony’s Tower and trying to pull the team back together.

“Forget that horseshit.” Steve blinked, not exactly shocked at her language. He had been in the 21st century long enough that swearing, even from a lady, wasn’t surprising. And Darcy swore more than most. But they had been working to save the Avengers – he had been working to save the Avengers. If he understood Natasha correctly, Darcy’s entire course of study and research centered around her belief in them as a force for good. He opened his mouth to question her, but as usual, Darcy bowled right over him.

“He is your friend. Despite all the age jokes and snarky comments about the comic books, he is your friend. And you are his. I would think the two of you could understand how important that is. How many friends do you have, Captain? Count them on one hand, or two? Before the serum, how was that number looking? Lines around the block of people eager to hang out with the skinny guy with the cough and no family? And how often did you wonder about people who were making nice because they wanted to hang out with Barnes?”

It was like a knife in his gut. It shouldn’t have been. In the face of alien invasions and staged assassinations, frame-up jobs, and international conflicts hurt feelings were paltry concerns. Steve had thought he was over it all, had been even before the war, but it was true. More than one kid had tolerated sitting next to Steve at lunch because they wanted Bucky Barnes on their stick ball team. More than one of the guys he knew at the ad agency before the war had invited him out because Bucky would follow and where Buck went so did the dames. Hell, every woman until Peggy had been with him either for Bucky, or for her friend who wanted Bucky. He had always known that. It was the guilty shadow over the attention he had received after the serum. All those ladies who wanted their hand on his arm, the guys who wanted to pal around, they wouldn’t have given two shits about him before. Steve had always been able to brush it aside, to push it down, but hearing it out of Darcy’s wide, brash mouth was something else. Something cutting.

“I’d think, after the shit you have been through, you’d get Tony a little better.” Her voice softened a little, and so did her eyes, but Steve was still stinging. “The Avengers are his serum, Captain. Before that, Tony was just a rich prick who bought friends and women, people who wanted to be close to all that money and power. A lot like some assholes want to be close to muscles and popularity.” Her gaze didn’t leave his face, but he was very aware of his biceps and the muscles in his chest. “He had three people. Three,” she held up her fingers like he might not be able to understand how small the number was, “who gave a shit about him _because of him_. And then there’s the Avengers, and these cool new kids who get what he’s trying to do, who understand that we can all fuck up and still want to do what’s right. And in the center of it all is the man with the plan.”

“I’ve never been that,” he bit off, “Never wanted to be that. Especially not with Tony or the others.”

“I know,” she said, but the softness was gone, replaced with a stern jaw that made him feel like he was back at Catechism about to be caught in a sin he hadn’t known he committed. “And he is trying, was trying, is still trying so hard not to see you that way. But where you woke up and met him as the egotistical billionaire with too many brains and not enough self-control running around the world to right wrongs - he was a person you got to know on your own terms. He met you when he was just a kid, too young to even remember. You were always the ideal, the pedestal, the man he was told he should be but could never measure up to. You were the friend that his father wanted and the soldier this country needed. How hard do you think it might be to believe that the person you had been compared to, and fallen short of, your entire life was wrong. To believe that person was wrong and you were right? Wouldn’t it feel good? Who could help themselves from wanting to feel that, to feel that finally, they could knock down that pedestal?”

Steve was overwhelmed with her words. He had known, in bits and pieces from Nat and Rhodey and even some from Tony himself, what kind of man Howard had become. The genius that Steve had called friend had become bitter and angry and he took that out on his only son. He had suspected most of Tony’s animosity had come from that – blaming Steve for Howard’s absence, physically and emotionally. He had never considered, however, that it might have shaped their disagreements about the Avengers. About the Accords.

Darcy continued, quieter now, “And then the one thing, the single thing he thought he had done right – where he had managed to stand taller than you – it turns out that was a mistake. Tony, for all the name-calling and the attention-deficit, is a complex person. Everyone wants a friend who wants them for themselves, who they can relate to.”

“I never claimed to be better than him, than anyone,” Steve managed to get out past the thoughts swirling in his head. “I’m not perfect.”

“Yes, Captain, I am familiar with both your fashion sense and your stellar charm.” The smirk curling the corner of her mouth could have been condescending, but she managed to use it to ease the tension. “As much as you are a real live boy under the shield and the mask, it can’t be easy to ignore fifty years of propaganda. I just saw the movie – by the way, please don’t quit your day job for Hollywood – and you were larger than life in that. Tony was being told every day by the man who should have been his largest supporter that you were everything good under the sun.”

“I can’t help that.” Steve was at a loss. It was his fault that the Avengers had fallen apart, his fault that Tony had suffered and was suffering. It was his responsibility to fix, but he had no idea where to start. He met her gaze, blue-green and framed by those black glasses. “ _How_ do I help that?”

“Show him you’re human.” She shrugged, like it was that simple.

“I am human.”

Darcy rolled her eyes and smiled, “Sure, like Mother Theresa and George Washington.”

“That’s it!” His control snapped and Steve ran a hand through his hair. “You say stuff like that, like it’s a joke, everyone does, but I’m just a man and I’m doing the same things Tony is trying to do. Same as Clint and Sam and Bruce and Nat -”

“Maybe not Nat,” she interjected. Steve nodded sharply, seeing her attempt at humor but not willing to be drawn in. “Even heroes have flaws, Captain. You work so hard to overcome yours that they are hard to see, while Tony slaps his on like armor. Just,” she sighed, “shit, maybe we really should get the shovels out for my career. Just, talk to him like you would talk to a friend, and he will be your friend. It will take time, but you can do that, right? Persistence is like, your middle name.”

“It’s Grant.”

She laughed, stepping back and hitting the button for the elevator. “Well, Steven Grant Rogers. Go forth and be persistent. Just don’t try the big eyes and earnest act on him – Tony’s immune.” She stepped in and let Friday know which floor she wanted.

Steve’s mouth opened, and he was talking before his brain had even finished digesting her advice, “Will it work on you?”

Her eyebrows raised and her mouth fell open. For a few seconds, Steve had struck Darcy Lewis speechless. He was unreasonably proud of that. Then she laughed again, louder, eyes closed and grin so wide he could see her teeth and the smooth skin of her neck when she tossed back her head. It should have been embarrassing, but as the doors closed and Steve turned back to face Tony’s shop, he felt a smile curving his own lips.

“You gonna come in and be useful, or stand out in the hall like a lurker all day?” Tony’s sharp demand through the speaker in the ceiling caught his attention. The man himself was still in the shop, greasy hands on his hips as he stared through the glass, parts scattered across two tables.

In three strides, Steve was pulling open the door and finding a stool that looked free of stains. “Any place you’d recommend to take a first date?”

“I took Pepper to Moracco for Bestilla.” Tony stopped poking at the tools in front of him for a second and gave Steve his undivided attention. It was like looking down the barrel of a rifle and knowing there would be no escape. “Is Lady Liberty’s Sweetheart stepping out on America?”

“Just wanted some advice,” Steve said, trying not to look as nervous as he felt. The combination of contemplating actually asking loud-mouthed Darcy on a date and risking Tony’s involvement, and the fragile peace between them, was enough to make his stomach a little wobbly. “You’ve got a better track record here than I do.”

“It took me ten years to ask Pepper out, and I have nearly gotten her killed three times. She has moved out twice. Four times if you count breaks where she left shoes in my closet.” Tony’s gaze didn’t waver, and Steve was wondering if maybe he wasn’t applying Darcy’s advice correctly.

“Yep. Sounds pretty good from where I’m sitting.”

“You don’t want to talk to the wingless wonder? Or your murder-bot?”

Steve wanted to grit his teeth at the name calling, but he could hear Darcy’s voice in his head, telling him that this was Tony’s way of working through hurt. And also his way of showing affection. He was a complex man. “Sam’s advice had me going to dinner with a lovely but ambitious reporter who tried to take pictures of my underwear drawer. Bucky hasn’t been on a date since gals expected to talk china patterns after a few months.”

“So, Lewis, huh?” Abruptly, Tony turned his attention back to the work bench and Steve relaxed a little. Tony pointed to an engine block across the room, “Bring that over here. First up, I’m duty bound to point out that you’re not ready to play in that league. Darcy Lewis could eat you alive.”

Steve pushed aside the knee-jerk reaction to deflect, and thought instead about what he would have said to Bucky. A life-time ago in the privacy of their apartment, after Buck had caught him mooning over a girl, Steve would have been teased mercilessly. And Steve would have given just as good as he got. He picked up the engine and strolled across the room like he owned it, letting one eyebrow flick up. He smirked in a way that Sarah Rogers would have smacked the back of his head if she had been alive to see it.

“What makes you think I have a problem with that?”


End file.
